Friday, 30 March 2012

After recovery day Tuesday there was a (pretty rough) rugby match Wednesday which as resulted in needing 2 days off as really move at all, I am however walking back from the pub now, aching muscles fairly well lubricated by alcohol if that can be counted in my favour. Tomorrow I am off to Otaly for a week on rugby tour where I will techically be excersing with rugby (

Tuesday, 27 March 2012

I was right about Saturday, there was no time for a walk (but I did get another cake) and on Sunday we deliberately had a rest day building up to yesterday, which was my 21st birthday (cue another cake) Dad and I took part in the traditional 21st birthday activity of... climbing Scafell Pike (highest point in England dont you know) I know its not as traditional as I've made it seem, but thats what we did anyway. all 3209 feet of it. After a hearty breakfast ( a fry up with dubious nutritional value) we were on the mountain by 9am. We approached from the Borrowdale side of the mountain, Brain and Steve prefer climbing from the other side as its an hour less footwork, but an hour and a half longer to drive to the start point. So whats another hour we blithely thought, we'll make mincemeat of it. What fools we were. The way the peaks of the mountain rise theres an initial thousand foot climb then you reach a plateau with a tarn (like a pond for those without Lake District knowledge, although I'm sure thats none of you) and from the bottom thats all you can see. No bother I though, is this really the highest point in England? However when you reach the ridge with the plateau another 2 thousand feet appearsf rom nowhere, and makes one feel quite sick let me tell you. However with a slight deviation from the path at the end involving a scramble up a vertical rock face we reached the top I'm proud to say in 2 hours 50 minutes, which is pretty good considering Brian and Steve expect us to be done in 5 hours, and surely coming down is quicker than going up right?
Wrong. wrong wrong wrong. As soon as he sat down at the top to eat his (now horerendously squashed and hideous looking froim sitting at the bottom of his bag) sandwich, I knew we'd have a job getting Dad to his feet again never mind back down the mountain. Sure enough after his impressive effort up, dad had little left but whinging for the way down. It started out small; a fly flew in his eye, a fly flew in his mouth, he had a stitch, his toe hurt, his other toe hurt, he had a headache, the sun was shinging in his eyes, and so on and so forth, all the while the pace dropping and dropping, until he decided the real problem was in his knees. "Most injuries happen on the way down, when people push themselves too hard, so I'm going at a speed I feel comfortable at," he whined, from a stationary position sitting on a rock. The only injury he ran the risk of was night falling beforer we got down and catching pneumonia in the cold! Eventually however he toddled down, oohing and aahing with every step like a distressed little chimp with every step, in 3 hours 40 minutes, bringing the grand total to 6 and a half hours. I'll keep focussed on the important part, 2 hours 50 to the top! Today there will be no walk as we need to recover, or as Dad half mournfully and half suspiciously gleefully keeps saying, his 3 peak dream will be over. A good birthday all in all, and now I know a third of what to expect on the big day.

Friday, 23 March 2012

My birthday is coming up, and as I'm split between London and home it means I have double celebrations. This can only have negative effects on my walking... take last night for example, my birthday is still 3 days away and I already have 2 birthday cakes (not that I'm complaining at all!) and I toddled round my walk today swaying like a little ear of drunken corn still tipsy from wine. At least I did it though, in 1 hour 15 as usual so my speed wasnt affected, I may even have been faster than usual since I must have covered extra ground wobbling all over. I'm now going to have some cake for breakfast. Tomorrow I'm driving home for a birthday lunch and night out so there probably won't be time for a walk but I'll do my best. And now for cake...

Thursday, 22 March 2012

There was no walk yesterday with uni all morning and rugby stuff all afternoon. Today was a birght and early one though, setting off at 8.15am, after the shorts incident on Tuesday I dug out another pair (yes I own 2 pairs of sports shorts, who'd have thought it) today a nifty itte balck lycra number. I was almost as slinky as the robotic runners I'd been scorned by on the Isle of Dogs in these, however as far as I've noticed none of them huff and puff like theyre about to blow a house down, so maybe I'm not there yet. To complete my sexy new look, my right eye decided to run constantly throughout my walk today, making me look like I despise excersise so much I was crying for 6 miles as I went, or this is in fact a whole noew way to sweat, from every orifice, that only my body could provide.

Tuesday, 20 March 2012

Today it was sunny again, very sunny. So I flashed out down to a t-shirt, and (drumroll please) the leggings were removed as I got the shorts out. Very sexy. I set off skantily clad, but still in the hotter weather as sweaty as ever. I enjoyed the breeze around by legs though... for about 30 seconds, at which point I noticed the sainted shorts beginning to chaffe. I completed the 6 miles in an hour and 15 despite hobbling around, and will probably be switching back to leggings tomorrow. Dad tried to feed me some cock and bull story about him doing a 12 miler, but I'm not sure I believe him!

Monday, 19 March 2012

Over the weekend I located my sports bra; it was in the wash. Relieved as I was to find it, there was still a problem; it was wet from being in said wash, and we students do not have tumble driers. While I waited for it to try I decided it would be best for health and safety reasons to refrain from walking without it, so I had an impromptu weekend off. This morning I drove back to London from Kings Lynn where I'd been to see Marty for his birthday, and Monday morning traffic well and truly screwed me over, leaving me not enough time to walk before uni. I nipped home after class to get my walk in before rugby training tonight.
So reunited with my sports bra todays walk could be described as a walk of two halfs; initially when I set off I cursed Dad and his shin spints, as my own lower legs began throbbing and twanging. I was less power walking and more crippled style hobbling along at a distinctly slower than usual pace when I heard "ROSIEEEEEE!" I stared round bewlidered (which is fairly hard to do whilst keeping moving at reasonable speed) "Ophelie..?" I called into the street (luckily recognising her french accent) but still didnt see her. I like to think that you wouldn't be able to imagine me stumbling around yelling into the middle of the road, but I sadly suspect it comes all too easily to you. Soon after Ophelie texted me explaining that she was hanging out of her window yelling, and that I should keep going as she was bringing cookies to training tonight. Strangely my legs began to hurt a little less, and spurred on by the thought of cookies I finished the 6 miles, but my legs are not really my friends now...

Friday, 16 March 2012

Feeling more in line with the world today, I was up and about by 8am. However my dilemma of the day arose quickly; my sports bra has vanished. Not that my room is messy, but time ticked by as I rifled through the piles of junk scattered around it. I didnt want to run the risk of losing time and momentum, so thought I'd be able to compensate by wearing not 1 but 2 normal bras. I quickly realised that this was not going to be successful. I managed to dodge 2 black eyes and got round the 6 miles in 1 hour 15 minutes, but feel that its best for everyones mental imagery if the less said about todays walk the better...

Thursday, 15 March 2012

Yesterday was rugby training, and today has been a very bad day. I'll admit to being a tiny bit hungover, but my problems far outweigh that particular headache. First I was late to my class, then the teacher asked me a question I did not know the answer to. When I finally escaped onto tube to come home and do my walk the tube was delayed, then when I made it on to a tube it was delayed again, then when I made it out of the tube there were no busses, then when I made it on to a bus there were loads of shreiking kids on it (why were they not in school?!) THEN when I made it off the bus I stubbed my toe! I darent do a walk today as I don't trust my legs any more than any other mode of transport today. I hardly dare type this should I electrecute myself somehow. Hopefully will fare better tomorrow.

Tuesday, 13 March 2012

After the sweaty-hands-phone-on-floor debacle yesterday, the warm weather luckily seems to have passed today and I was back in a hoody for my walk today. After a 9am class I returned home and set off just before 11. The streets were fairly quiet, but I did attract attention from not 1 but 2 white vans (well I think it was the men in said vans rather than the vans themselves that I caught the eye of but you know what I mean) The first was just a horn honk and a wink as he passed, but the second was a full on slow down wind the window down lean out "alright daaaaaaahlin!" job. Some might be confused and slightly worried (knowing as you all know by now how smashing I look during these endeavours) about the reactions I raised in these men, I'm going to look on the bright side though, and say it's nice to know I've still got it (it being red sweatiness, but never mind)
Eddie appeared out of the woodwork and produced a time, 1 hour 52 minutes. Ha! Slow, loser! I scoffed, before realising that this was actually the time it had taken him to complete 8 miles. Urges to throw him off a mountain, which I thought were long gone seem to be rearing their ugly heads again, smug little git.

Monday, 12 March 2012

After a glimpse into Dads 'training' at the weekend, I woke up early without my alarm and (hoping Dad was doing the same) set off at 7.50am. The warm snap has knocked me for 6 with warbrobe decisions. I removed my uniform hoody and skimped down to just a t-shirt (the leggings did stay, and socks and shoes and whatnot of course) This left me with a problem, 2 problems in fact; my phone and my keys. On one hand I've lost the pouch that comes with a hoody for carrying them, but on the other I can carry 1 item in each hand and use them as weights for an additional arm workout. The silver lining soon slipped off the cloud though, much like my phone which slipped from my sweaty little fingers and splat onto the pavement. I added minutes to my time flapping around after it, but luckily no harm was done. I managed to make up lost phone-panic time and got round the 6 miles in 1 hour 15 minutes. I havent heard from Dad, but I assume he's completed a lovely walk too...

Sunday, 11 March 2012

On Friday I'm afraid that the closest I got to a walk was a lap of Morrisons with Grandma. There was an Eddie sighting though! It was very brief though, he came in, grunted at us all and then vanished into the night with a girl...
Yesterday (there was still no sign of Ed, so) me and Dad set off to Roseberry topping alone, well Mam was practicing her role as technical support by driving us, but on the sharp end of training it was me and Dad scaling the slopes. I expected to be in for a treat, as Dad has been telling me all about how he and Ed had been hopping up the hill like it was nothing every weekend. So I expected to be pleasantly surprised by a display of Dads increased fitness and skills. I quickly came to realise that Dad may have exaggerated slightly about his efforts on Roseberry topping - in that I doubt from the sight of his huffing puffing face that there have been any efforts at all. We made it to the top in the end though, and stomped back down. Halfway there though Dad took me by surprise (and himself I suspect) by declaring that he was sufficiently warmed up enough now to turn around and go back to the top. Agape I trailed in his wake, and we made it back to the top and down again in 1 hour 16 minutes in total.
Today it was warm and sunny, and could be accurately described as sticky. The description became more and more apt as we plodded on. Sensing a gap in Dads training I opted to stick with Brain and Steves prescribed 6 mile route rather than flashing out on a 10 miler as Dad suggested. I suspect that he was pretty relieved with my choice. There was much grumbling, but we covered 6 miles in 1 hour 34 minutes, which is 6 minutes quicker than Dads usual time, so something of a success. Eddie emerged from his room in time to wave me off back to London (when he had returned home and what he had been doing in the mean time was anyones guess)

Thursday, 8 March 2012

On the comedown from the big match university life has been getting back into routine, following which I use Wednesday as my rest day from walking when we have training, yesterday however training was cancelled, and so I maintained my rest day, but passed it in the pub rather than on the pitch.
This morning was a bright and early one as I have a new class starting at noon. I was up and out at 8.15am, thats right, prime commuter time. The sun was shining and birds were singing, and I got my adrenaline fix from each mini race, and dodged horrendous school children and cars alike as I darted round the isle like I had a rocket up my backside as Grandma woud say. Although I felt like I was moving quickly, I must have subconciously have wanted to enjoy the sun (and barging horrible little brats from my path when their parents weren't looking) as I remained at my usual spee, and clocked in a 1 hour 15 minute time. Had a worrying report from Dad that he and Newbie had to abort their walk owing to a sore paw from our 4 legged friend. Infuriating as I find him when I'm with him (I do mean the dog, although this could also be applied to Dad on occasion), absence makes the heart grow fonder for me, so get well soon Newbie! And Eddie? Well your guess is as good as mine.

Tuesday, 6 March 2012

I was right in my prediction of my mood, and set off today with feet as light as my heart. Apparently I have become something of a celebrity on the Isle of Dogs... can you imagine the east enders discussing me, I'll paint you a picture; there they are all gathered around their pints discussing their wealings and dealings, when I crop up in conversation - "Sweaty girl, stomps around like a baby elephant on a mission? Yeah I've seen her" so I was tempted to wear sunglasses to reflect my new found fame, and add some glamour for my adoring fans (although they are more likely to actually be traumatised innocents who just happened to look out of the wrong window at the wrong time and witness me in al my glory) however humble as I am I refrained. I dashed around the Isle in 1 hour 15 minutes, and had a successful report from Dad (1 hour 39 minutes!) Eddie seems to vanish off the face of the earth, so no-one knows whats going on with him nowadays, I'll find out and let y'all know

Monday, 5 March 2012

We lost. We lost the Big Match. I think I'll be creative in the movie and let us win though, for the sake of the feel-good factor. We did work really hard though, and I'm sure this is what all losers say but we were robbed slightly. I threw myself on to and under (as is the way of rugby) the bodies of some gargantuan opposition (no offence to our worth adversories UCLWRFC, you are what you are, and heaven knows I'm no supermodel myself) I had a few knocks to the head (as seems to be my way) and after 80 minutes hard graft stepped off the pitch to a deep swig of a well deserved pint, following which I promptly vomited. There was no walk, but I certainly sweated like I'd done one. You should have seen me out there, it was probably enough to make anyone sick.
Saturday morning then I woke up feeling like I'd been run over by a truck (again no offence UCLWRFC) my neck hurt so much it felt like it was part of a seperate body, and my arms and legs were refusing to co-operate with either me or each other too. Although I couldn't bring myself to a walk, I loaded up on posh painkillers to get myself into a pair of heels for KCL Law Society's annual ball. There was free champagne, and as the painkillers started to wear off I'l admit I made the most of it.
Sunday morning saw an early start for me, there was to be no time for a walk as I had to hot foot it to King's Lynn to get to Farmer Freds Play Barn with Marty and his son. Normally I wouldn't mention this (lord knows I try to keep mentions of Marty to a minimum) but for the fact that far from the chirpy fun house its name makes it seem, Farmer Freds is in fact a hellish torture chamber, particularly for those nursing champagne hangovers from the day before, and incredible rugby aches and pains from the day before that. Great fun was of course had by all, but scrambling around the obstacle course that it was, I'd have taken a 6 mile walk any day.
Today then I started my walk irritable to say the least. University admin (wonderful as it is) let me down all morning, and with legs still in protest to excersise after the weekend, passers by today witnessed me at my grumpy stomping best. It's also been very windy in London today, and the streets of the Isle Of Dogs all seemed to have turned themselves into wind tunnels, with me having to walk into the wind of course. To make matters worse there was also a stone in one of my shoes. Today was not a good day. Luckily the streets were fairly empty, and aside from the wind and my own bad mood there was nothing standing between me and a lovely walk. And that stone, that was rather in the way too. I threw some venom into my stomps though, and spurred on by a text from dad clocking in his time at 1 hour 40 minutes, despite adverse conditions natural and man made completed my route in 1 hour 15. Hopefully tomorrow the wind will be gone, I'll have an early night and my grumpy cross patch mood will be gone, I can put the rollercoaster of a weekend behind me, get that stone out of my shoe, and enjoy myself.

Thursday, 1 March 2012

Just a quick one as I'm rushing around preparing for The Big Match (tomorrow - eek!) Rugby has taken over my life slightly this week and after the difficulties I suffered on Monday I completed Tuesdays efforts in a fairly slow time (1 hour 20) and with a slight limp, I'm obviously overworked...
Yesterday I didn't walk, which was for the best as we did light training at rugby and have been told expressly to do as little as possible for today (and to eat a load of pasta, excellent) So today, devastated as I am to be banned form walking yet again I'm going to sit back, relax in the sun, and stuff my face...
Wish us luck for the big match tomorrow, I'll let you know how we get on.